lucky seven

there was
an old man
from Argenta
who wondered
if he was
courting dementia
his prosaic
left foot
focused
tragically south
as his magic
right foot
stuck an objective
alphabet
in his old
toothless mouth
tragically
spelling out
with dementia
life and death
as the old
argent moon
rose demographically
over far-off
Argentia
as that dented
old man
lamented far-off
planets and moons
imagine a mosaic
of words
slowly becoming
inspired then mired
in confusion
contusion into absentia
fleeting old age
physically worn out
mentally tired

         * * *

 

if we had no rhythm
everything discordant
who would want to sing
if everything refused to vibrate
where would we be now
if light decided not to shine
would God still exist
or is God like light
something untouchable and divine
going where we're going
all those prophetic signs
along our storied way
glory some may say
ringing with universal design
sacred resonance
enlightening our spiritual way
this rhythm we keep
both  day and night
these songs we sing
something good and right
showering the world
with hope and joy
sharing celestial light
nurturing every glorious girl and boy

                * * *

 

once
or twice
I saw love
painted blue
stone cold
spice smeared upon
a seaside wall
cheap canned sardines
said graffiti read
love's way too steep
don't slip or fall
speak about bleeding
emotions calling
this immense and tall thing  
whatever spoke
sometimes wedged
oft times ragged
calling love
something dredged
summoned  
dragged out
of a careless sea
what if morbid love
a shameless part
begot more heart
then we're jolted
one massive shove
something wrangled
dangling true love it seems
a crowning part
what isn't real
overwhelmed and drowning
that's the real deal
all that kissing and other wet
supposed love
what should we feel
tidal love
washing over us
coming then going
what should love be
rapids and canyons
flooded beaches
mangrove and tidal flats
brooding ocean
flowing in and out
stunned by an anchoring weight
welded to this oceanic heart
molten love affairs
enigmatic magma
flowing o'er a tidal chart
steam and vapour
from a cold deep sea
why do we
derail ourselves
punish and chain  
nail ourselves
to some dead weight tree
why do we
scuttle ourselves
allow muddled love
to rip and tear us up
love doesn't set us free
love chews us up
love's tinned poison
breakfast and supper
dams and irrigation
filling our cup
drip by irrational drip
lovely relational tears
blaming and flowing
under love's
for our sake sun
so chiseled love
sculpting marbled fears
etching magic symbols
onto stone cold walls
scratch out more
tragic heartbreak
matched with costly love
taking and catching
every and all
dreamers aching to bleed
love's points and spires
dreaming for love's sake
honey and cream
when we wake
then true love falls

             * * *

 

 

I'm not
an actor
neither
a musician
nor
a dancer
I'm not
a writer
neither
a poet
nor
an artist
so what
am I
a digit
just blip
spit
on a map
just one
across thought
this universe
simply atomic
living energy
mnemonic light
perfect synergy
existing
in my own
energetic
right

   * * * 

 

throw life
at the wall
see what sticks
what monsters slither
leathery and ugly
how gambling is measured
ruggedly scary and monstrously tall
who do you call
some hell dogs
so boundaries and tethers
sanity can be customized
humanity is consuming and shopping
self serving and itemized
something always hoping
flickering candles in the wind
just be good and kind
those things we do
those things that stick
somethings true
sometimes a trick
those four walls
keeping us in the dark
we stumble and fall
feel the earth rumble
admission of those vain sins
while the sky keeps telling lies
still the heart of the world bleeds
gods and even aliens must die
eventually it all comes down
words and feelings apply
communication breakdown
redemption and condemnation
sticky things
often life's rude reply
basically nature
is it sunlight
we seek
or actual starlight
integrally either is right
being blinded
by the light
catchy either way
still we're flesh and blood
day and night
finding breath and need
if we tossed thought
against a pretentious wall
unrehearsed what would stick
something stuck in my brain
maybe crazy and insane
maybe vanity and profane
perhaps patience and compassion
clearly some understanding
finding hopeful sanity
truth finally
that spiritual moment
waking in heaven
wondering what went right and wrong
was it snake eyes or lucky seven
those numerous thoughtful things
sliding down a quavering wall
wagering whether we rise or fall
so this sticky heaven
come quivering one
come sticky all

               * * *